


Knives and Blankets

by Narassi



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Brief mention of Caboose, Canon-typical language, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narassi/pseuds/Narassi
Summary: Tucker and Wash cuddle and talk while enjoying a morning off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I'm suffering from reading PMGITG? I really needed fluff with these two idiots -.-  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! I'm the only one who proofreads these, so any remaining mistakes are mine.

Wash sighed happily and burrowed his nose further under the blankets. He had been awarded a rare day off from dealing with the soldiers of Chorus. He had no trainings, no meetings, and no missions. Wash had sprained his ankle the evening before when Caboose thought it would be a great idea to jump on top of him during a training exercise. Dr. Grey then forbade Wash from even _touching_ his armor for a full day. Apparently Tucker had managed to free his morning schedule, because sunlight was beginning to trickle in through the window and yet Tucker was still here with his arms wrapped around Wash.

Wash, for his part, was absolutely in heaven. Tucker had added the blankets from his own bed to Wash’s, and the two were cozily snuggled together. Wash had buried his face in Tucker’s chest at some point during the night, and Wash hadn’t moved since Tucker rested his chin on the top of his head. He had wrapped his arms around Wash and snuck one of his hands into one of Wash’s, where his thumb rested gently against Wash’s palm. They lay there like that for a long time. Sunlight enveloped them through the gaps in the blinds. Wash stayed in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness for what could have been minutes or hours before Tucker stirred.

Tucker shifted a little and lips grazed the top of Wash’s head. The other man made a pleased sound deep in his chest that Wash felt as much as he heard. “You awake?” Tucker murmured against Wash’s hair.

Wash scrunched his face up and buried it further in his boyfriend’s chest. “No,” he grumbled.

Tucker laughed softly. He squeezed Wash’s hand softly and began to rub his thumb against Wash’s palm. The light sensation was just shy of ticklish, making Wash lips tilt upwards minutely.

After a little while, Tucker muttered, “Your fucking _hands_.”

Wash opened his eyes a little. “What about them?” He asked.

Tucker shrugged with one shoulder. “All the scars. How do you get scars on your hands?”

Wash uncurled a little to rest his forehead against Tucker’s. “I guess from working with knives so much,” he said.

Tucker pulled his bottom arm back to rest between them and wrapped his other arm around Wash’s waist to pull him closer. Wash gently pressed his lips to Tucker’s, over and over again, the pace slow and sweet enough that he almost fell asleep in between one kiss and the next. Tucker eventually leaned back and grabbed one of Wash’s hands, pulling it up above the covers. He traced a particularly large scar over his left palm.

Tucker looked down at it. “I mean, I know that this one came from you cutting your hand to spray the blood on Locus, but this one?” Tucker moved his thumb to a long, thin scar that stretched horizontally across three of the four knuckles on Wash’s right hand. “What the hell happened here?”

Wash looked down at it. “That one? Oh, a guy I was fighting grabbed my knife, and I went to grab his wrist to get it back. It didn’t go so well.”

Tucker snickered, but sobered quickly. “That must have hurt,” he said quietly.” Wash nodded. “What about this one?” Tucker stroked a small scar about two inches long on the inside of Wash’s right thumb.

Wash snorted. “I picked up the wrong end of a knife once.”

Tucker barked out a laugh, startled. “Wait, seriously?”

Wash grinned. “Yeah. Hurt like hell. Taught me to never pick up a knife without looking.”

Tucker snorted. “That’s one way to learn!” Tucker kissed Wash’s nose briefly before looking back down. “What about this one?”

“The little one on my pinky? Um, well, that one happened when I tried to grab a piece of something my older sister was cutting for dinner. I almost got it.”

Tucker full-on laughed, loud and long. “You fucking idiot!” The other man let go of Wash’s hands to wipe tears from his eyes. “How old were you?”

Wash grinned sheepishly. “Eight or nine.”

Tucker buried his face in Wash’s neck, his shoulders shaking with laughter. When he’d finally calmed down, he picked up Wash’s hands again and asked about each and every scar he could find. Wash told him each story and when it had happened, all the while reveling in the warmth the blankets and Tucker provided. Tucker rubbed and stroked his hands the whole time.

After Tucker ran out of scars to ask about, Wash buried his face in Tucker’s chest again and they just breathed together. Wash smiled and kissed his boyfriend's chest. He hadn’t felt so comfortable and happy in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr!! agentfrecklelancer.tumblr.com


End file.
